


feeling thorny

by eluviahn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair's rose, Drabble, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Fluff, blushing nerds, elf pride, elves are the best, rose scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eluviahn/pseuds/eluviahn
Summary: "He is awe-struck by the way that she manages to show every bigot in Fereldan that they could never have been more wrong about her "evil and conniving" nature, and he bets her aggressors feel the same way as well. "also known as: alistair idolizes my warden almost as much as i do.





	feeling thorny

**Author's Note:**

> this is mainly shameless self-indulgence and me trying to put into words how much i love my own character. i think i wrote this one night that the insomnia was really hittin hard and i cried a little bit thinkin about my bitch. petition bioware for at least a half a second shot of the warden in the next dragon age thx.
> 
> technically a drabble but i might add other random moments later if the insomnia hits again :-)

She is quite a force to be reckoned with, yet also a regular hero in every town they visit (har har). What he most admires about her, however, is her pride. She is an elf, she knows it, and she does not take shit from anyone; ever. Her hair is cut short not only for practicality and the beautiful way it frames her face, but because her ears are clearly visible, almost as if she is daring the populace to make a comment or slip a quiet "knife-ear" into a passing conversation. She stands her ground and confronts her accusers, but never comes to violence. He is awe-struck by the way that she manages to show every bigot in Fereldan that they could never have been more wrong about her "evil and conniving" nature, and he bets her aggressors feel the same way as well. 

She has told him that even the circle exposed her to hatred, unsurprisingly. Her mentors were always kind, and the templars kept their distance, but with magic and the added bonus of simply being an elf came subtle signs of prejudice and distrust. She tells him that she learned from it, didn't understand their opinions, but decided she would teach them kindness and respect nonetheless. He stares at her in awe, wondering what feats she would have no-doubt accomplished if not for the fact that the circle had been her prison for so long. 

However, while she may not shrink away from her heritage, she is not without distrust of her own. Caution is her greatest weapon in most situations, and it hurts his heart when she thinks she needs to show it around him. He knows he has tried with every fiber of his being to speak to her respectfully, apart from the majority of the time when their conversations turn to sarcasm and flirting, but he has worried before that she does not trust him to be as open-minded and he portrays himself. Curse the blighted Templar training and chantry upbringing. He'd relive his life in the alleyways of Denerim if it meant she would trust him. 

The first time she truly shows him her vulnerability is when he gives her the rose. He tells her word-for-word the mantra of affections that has been in his head for the past month and is even more awe-stricken to see her staring at him in wonder as the words tumble gracelessly out of his mouth. He is used to a joke or jab at his expense about now, but instead finds admiration, with perhaps a bit of scrutiny in her gaze. 

"Alistair, I... I truly don't know what to say." She casts her gaze downward and he raises a hand to sullenly and awkwardly rub his neck. His hopes are both lifted and crushed unceremoniously in one foul swoop. 

"Ah, no I understand. I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. I just..." 

Her head snaps up with otherworldly speed before he can turn to sulk back to his tent, and it is only then that he sees the bright red flush staining down to the wide expanse of her chest exposed by her armor. 

_Oh._

"No-no-no!" They're still face to face, but she grabs his arm almost frantically, the rose clutched tightly in her other hand and held to her chest. "I- I'm no good with this sort of thing. I've never- well, no one's ever said something like that to me before." 

He is careful not to let his jaw drop in surprise, "You? The second biggest flirt currently residing in Fereldan? Are you sure it was only Darkspawn blood in that chalice?"

She cracks a grin at his familiar joking, but her flush is a much deeper red now, and she covers her face with both hands, still clutching the rose.  

"Flirting is one thing! If I'm right after Zevran in the line-up, you might as well be third!" He scoffs jokingly and she drops her hands from her face. "You never expect anyone to make good on it- at least  _I_ certainly haven't. Especially from some charming, wonderful, blushing oaf!" She jabs an accusatory finger at his chest as he feels himself blushing. Yet, too quickly for him to even think to respond, she continues, "My more  _prominent_ qualities don't really tend to be on the 'attractive side' either." 

She freezes the moment the words leave her mouth, eyes wide and fearful. "Did I truly just admit both of those statements out loud? Perhaps the Maker truly is real, because this is proof he  _must_ hate me. Do you suppose an early trip to the deep roads would be in order?" 

He is surprised to find himself less flustered than usual now, and he feels intent on letting her know exactly what she means to him and everyone else, as he clearly knows there's no discussing her "embarrassing admissions" now. 

"I know how difficult it must be for you, and I know that I do nothing to help with my incessant complaining, but I just thought... maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are amongst all this...darkness." 

His cheeks burn and his throat easily feels like a desert, but he lets out a mental victory shout at actually being able to voice his sentiments to her properly for once. 

The silent embarrassment he endures for 5 long seconds is  _entirely_ worth it as she looks up from his rose with the widest smile his ever seen, and a glassy sheen to her eyes. "Thank you, Alistair. Truly." 

He returns her smile tenfold, and she reaches down to grabs his hand with her own. He appreciates the  _very_ rare tender moment, but before he can reply her smile is replaced with a smirk and she eyes the rose. 

"Feeling a bit  _thorny_ were we?" 


End file.
